


I’m Glad You’re Okay

by Ally_Oop



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Banter, Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, POV Merlin (Merlin), Protective Arthur, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23784955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ally_Oop/pseuds/Ally_Oop
Summary: Arthur’s favorite sword has been lost, and it is allegedly Merlin’s fault. On their way to find it,  Merlin and Arthur run into some trouble.1% plot, 99% banter
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 248





	I’m Glad You’re Okay

Arthur was angry, but not in the traditional sense. In much the same way that a lion may appear to be angry when chasing down its prey despite only doing what it was born to do, Arthur glared and scoffed and insulted everything about Merlin with no genuine malicious intent. He was angry because he was supposed to be, not because he really was. Arthur reserved this special category of anger for Merlin alone, and it came particularly in handy on days like this one, wherein Merlin had actually done something that really SHOULD have provoked real anger. However, Merlin noted with relief, Arthur wasn’t actually all that upset despite his words declaring otherwise.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve such an idiot for a servant.” Arthur spat. 

Merlin opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Arthur.

“Don’t answer that.”

They were traveling on horseback along a thin path that zigzagged through the woods, often disappearing and reappearing at will and growing exceptionally difficult to follow as the trip went on. The trees were impossibly tall and thin, the sunlight directly overhead casting short shadows and making the scene glow with a soft green light. The shadows of the leaves cast odd shapes onto the ground and over their bodies, and if Merlin squinted, he could make out familiar shapes among the shadows. In the occasional stretches where neither he or Arthur talked, he amused himself by finding little pictures within these shadows. Things like flowers, or stars, or Arthur getting eaten by a bear. Nice, comforting things like that.

“This is all your fault.”

“It was an honest mistake,” Merlin replied defensively. Arthur turned and looked over at him, mouth hanging open in an overly dramatic expression of indignant shock.

“An honest mistake? You left a sword, my FAVORITE sword, no less, somewhere in a FIELD!”

“It wouldn’t be there if you hadn’t passed out.” Merlin pointed out.

“I got bludgeoned over the head and you’re blaming ME?” Arthur squinted at Merlin, his dramatics only increasing. 

“Well, you’re the one who’s been trained in combat. You didn’t see ME passing out, and I’m just a servant.” Merlin remarked.

“And a useless one, at that.” Arthur spat. “How did you manage to stay alive, anyway? There were nearly a dozen men and the only competent one of us was passed out.”

Merlin tilted his head. “I never passed out, that was you.”

“If we find my sword, I’m going to run you through with it.”

“That’s quite a large ‘if,’ considering I was too busy saving your ass to see where you’d dropped it.”

Merlin glanced over, and Arthur was smiling to himself despite the insult. Their bickering was familiar, and it was only the absence of it that ever indicated any real problems. Illuminated by the forest’s green glow, Arthur’s face seemed to take on a softer air; his guard was lowered and his grip on the reigns were literally and figuratively loosened.

Merlin was relieved that Arthur had dropped his earlier question; images of bandit bodies going flying as Merlin sent them all soaring into the trees with his magic were still fresh in his mind, and he had rather hoped Arthur just wouldn’t think too hard about how Merlin got them both out of there unscathed. Partly because it was suspicious, and partly because thinking was never Arthur’s strong suit. 

He had really lost control back there, Merlin reflected. It was lucky that Arthur was so utterly stupid that he’d gotten himself knocked out before he saw anything. 

Merlin’s horse took a slight sidestep and whinnied uneasily. He reached out and stroked her neck, but she shook his hand off with a huff and a violent shake of her mane. Arthur laughed at this, reveling in Merlin’s frustration.

“I don’t think she likes me.” Merlin admitted.

“Can anyone blame her?” Arthur replied easily, shooting Merlin an innocent smile.

Merlin glared. 

“I think she’s upset about something.”

“Did she tell you that herself?” Arthur scoffed. “I didn’t know you could speak horse.”

“I’ve been talking to you all these years; I’ve picked up a thing or two.”

Arthur’s jaw dropped and he made a few choking noises but ultimately fell silent, finding nothing he could say in return. Merlin laughed quietly, feeling rather proud of himself. It wasn’t often that Arthur was rendered speechless.

They trotted on for a few more minutes, and Merlin resumed looking for pictures in the shadows. Soft images of flowers and birds and mountains appeared and disappeared nebulously and he found himself smiling softly as he watched their little worlds gently collide and reform into something even more beautiful. He really did love nature; it was one of the only reasons these solo trips with Arthur were even slightly bearable.

He was jolted out of his train of thought when his horse suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Arthur immediately noticed and brought his own horse to a halt. 

“What’s happened?” He asked, a teasing smile blooming on his face.

“I don’t know.” Merlin admitted, stroking the horse’s neck and silently begging her to spare both of their dignities and just keep walking.

“Well, have you tried asking her?” Arthur’s smile morphed into a derisive grin, and he tilted his head slightly as he watched Merlin hop out of his saddle and stand in front of the horse, cooing and stroking her neck to no avail. She appeared very unamused. Arthur snickered, and Merlin shot him a truly venomous look. 

Suddenly, there was a slight rustle in the bushes behind Merlin. Arthur’s grin faded immediately, and his hand shot to the sword at his side. Not his own, since Merlin had lost that one, but one that was still very much capable of doing the job. He eyed the direction the sound had come from steadily, tensing up and tightening his grip on the sword.

“Merlin, get behind-“

Before Arthur could finish, something yanked Merlin back away from the horse and a cold blade was pressed against his throat. This seemed to happen a lot, Merlin mused to himself. 

He couldn’t see the man, but he could feel the scrawny arm pinning his hands behind his back and the bony fingers on the hilt of the sword at his throat. He was breathing heavily, arms trembling slightly. Definitely not a trained assassin, at least. 

“Empty the bags. Now.” He spoke, his voice as shaky as his arms. Merlin, despite the situation, wasn’t feeling very intimidated. The man was obviously just a petty criminal and had no clue who he was dealing with. Merlin almost pitied him. Almost, as there was still a sword to his throat.

Arthur raised his hands defensively and hopped off of his horse slowly, eyes never leaving the man. He made towards Merlin’s horse, and undid the ties on his satchel. For a brief moment, Merlin wondered if Arthur was actually about to let himself get robbed by an average highwayman, but then he saw Arthur’s face. 

He was angry. 

He wasn’t angry in the way Merlin was used to, where his insults lacked malice and his glares were simply precursors to a good natured laugh or a light cuff over the head. He was angry in a way that Merlin had never seen before. 

Merlin had seen the reckless and impulse driven anger that usually only surfaced during battle; that type of anger was fiery and wild and uncontrolled. This anger was cold and quiet and calculated. His warm blue eyes were now hard and uncaring, his jaw was set and his movements deliberate. 

The man seemed to notice the menace in Arthur’s silent compliance, and Merlin felt the sword being pressed dramatically harder against his throat. He gasped in pain, feeling a thin trickle of blood down his neck. Arthur looked up, deciding something, and abandoned the satchel. He slowly took a step or two towards the man. The sword grew even closer, and Merlin gritted his teeth against the pain. 

“You should leave.” Arthur suggested, voice dangerously calm. 

“Just empty the bags.” The man replied shakily. 

“I’ve got some advice for you.” Arthur said, taking another step forwards. “For next time, of course.” 

The man didn’t answer, and Arthur came within a foot of him before speaking again.

“Never rob a man with his own sword.”

All in one motion, Arthur ripped the sword from the man’s grasp and kicked his knees with enough force to send him to the floor, leaving Merlin to stumble away and gasp for air, wrapping his hands around his still bleeding throat. 

Now that Merlin could get a good look at the man, he saw that he wasn’t very old, perhaps only 19 or 20. His face was round and very childlike, with little beady eyes and a very small nose. His features all seemed rather too small for his face. His eyes, however, were so wide with fear that it seemed as though they took up a full third of the space. 

Arthur grabbed the man’s arm roughly and yanked him to his feet, bringing the sword to his throat. Merlin froze. He wouldn’t. It was Arthur. Arthur didn’t do things like this.

Arthur held the sword there for a few seconds, applying just enough pressure to make him sweat, but not drawing blood yet. The man whimpered slightly, and Arthur finally raised his eyes to meet Merlin’s. They stared at each other for a moment, Merlin’s eyes wide and pleading. After a minute or two, Arthur’s expression softened, and he sighed.

“Don’t ever try anything like this again.” Arthur spat at the man, releasing him.

The man broke off into a dead sprint back into the forest, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to get away. Arthur watched him leave for a minute before coming to stand beside Merlin. The anger was gone, replaced with concern.

“How bad is it?” He asked gingerly, gesturing to his neck.

“It’s not deep. I’ll live, unfortunately for you.”

Arthur nodded, and offered a tentative smile which Merlin returned.

“We’re going home anyways, now that I’ve got this back.” Arthur removed the old sword from his sheath and replaced it with the original. “Gaius can fix you up.”

Merlin hopped back up onto his horse, giving her a little pat on the head as he went.  
“I think she was trying to warn us.” He said cheerily.

“I think she got tired of your rambling and was hoping that man would kill you.” 

“Thanks for that, by the way. He probably would’ve if you hadn’t done something.”

“There’s no need to thank me, I only wanted my sword back. Your neck was simply in the way.” Arthur insisted. 

Despite his words, he offered Merlin a genuine smile as they turned their horses around and began to head home. The shadows were growing longer and longer and the forest whispered quiet goodbyes as the horses trotted along side by side.

“You know,” Arthur spoke up after a stretch of silence. “He wouldn’t have found my sword in the first place if you hadn’t LOST it, so it’s really all your fault.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have lost it if you hadn’t lost your consciousness first.”

“I was hit over the head with a KETTLE!” Arthur cried indignantly.

“Correction; you LET yourself get hit over the head with a kettle.” Merlin pointed out.

“It wasn’t exactly my choice, Merlin.”

“It was quite a small kettle, too.” He mused out loud. 

“It was NOT a small kettle.”

“Your memory must have been affected when that little kettle hit you.”

“It was a HUGE kettle.”

“It was a tiny kettle, really. More of a tea pot, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.”

“Well, you should. I was there AND I was conscious.”

“It was a very BIG and very HEAVY kettle.” Arthur insisted, his face growing red. 

Merlin grinned, and glanced over to see that Arthur was fighting a grin himself. He was trying desperately to be angry, but failing miserably, as usual.

“Whatever you say, sire.” Merlin said listlessly.

A moment of silence passed once again, and Arthur broke it a second time, his voice so soft it was nearly inaudible amid the rustling of the leaves and the soft thud of hooves on grass.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” 

Merlin smiled over at him, prompting a glare from Arthur. 

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re not much use to me dead.”

“Ah, don’t get all sentimental on me now.”

Arthur laughed easily and Merlin joined in. Things were back to normal, and they fell into their usual routine as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky and the forest grew distant behind them. Camelot came into view just as the sun set, backlit by a fiery orange and purple sky. Everything was peaceful, and as Merlin watched Arthur’s face fall back into the soft, unguarded state of being he’d witnessed earlier that day, he smiled, and was content to enjoy it while it lasted.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I really really hope you enjoyed this one; it was so fun to write. It’s not perfect; I’m really just churning out cute stuff for fun and trying not to agonize over quality too much. 
> 
> Side note, reading all of the nice comments on my other fics has made me so happy; you're all so sweet and friendly and it makes me so incredibly happy to know my 2-5am scribbles are bringing anyone any amount of joy. Thank you all so much and thank you for reading again!!💕💕💕


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